"You're absolutely devouring that, Musashi," remarked Takao Dayu. From the open paper doors of the brothel's second floor, she watched the swordswoman slurp her piping-hot soba noodles with gusto atop the first-story roof. Again and again, she slurped and murmured her delight. "Soba are meant to be molded into round shapes, but you prefer to have them cut thin, don't you?" continued the courtesan with a long sigh. "...To be honest, I was planning on having udon. But I already had udon yesterday, so I changed to soba at the last minute." The swordswoman took another sip of broth, beaming. "Mm-mmm! So good!" Her name was Miyamoto Musashi, the Berserker with whom Takao Dayu had formed a fellowship. "Bet I could pass for an Edo girl now," quipped Musashi. "Eh, I would've pegged you for a Shinshu native. Thin noodles are more popular up there." "Is that so?" Berserker cocked her head pensively. It was hard to say if she'd taken the joke as intended, or if she'd simply accepted it at face value. Puffing smoke from her bamboo pipe, Takao Dayu looked into Berserker's clear eyes.
It was said that Heroic Spirits who materialized as Servants had no need for food or drink, at least according to someone Takao Dayu had spoken to shortly after encountering Berserker. That person had seemed to envy Servants' freedom from the hardships of the living, but Takao could not bring herself to agree. Food was one of life's great pleasures, after all. Just imagine: Pickled vegetables and freshly steamed rice, with miso soup on the side. What a heavenly accompaniment! With some fish—cooked or raw—to go with it, the meal would be even more delightful. And one mustn't forget to pair it all with the right liquor, of course. On nights such as these, Takao liked to enjoy a tipple of clear, refined sake between pulls on her pipe, as she watched the smoke drift lazily on the evening breeze. Denied these delights entirely, these so-called Heroic Spirits from beyond the grave seemed pitiable indeed. Mark my words, dearie. If the day comes that you take no pleasure from the foods you eat, then you've lost what makes you human. The courtesans that had come before her had drummed that notion into Takao's head. Perhaps that was why her companion felt so human even though she was a Heroic Spirit. At any rate, Berserker certainly held cuisine in high esteem. Befitting her claims of having traveled to a myriad of times and places, however, her tastes were peculiar. On a whim, she would suddenly ask permission to go as far as Ryogoku to buy meat. Or she might ask for rice balls, requesting that they be wrapped in seaweed, of all things. Once, she even wanted to drink cow's milk chilled with well water. But all in all, meals meant a great deal to Berserker.
"Even that melancholy expression can't mar your beauty, Dayu." Berserker teased, empty bowl in hand. She was probably about to head back to the stall or shop she had ordered from to return the bowl. Takao Dayu made a languid gesture with her pipe. "Don't flirt unless you're willing to back it up. What a naughty Servant you are." "I'm not a Berserker for nothing." "Is that supposed to be a joke?" Even with Berserker's humor lost on her, Takao smiled back. "Did I seem melancholy? Actually, I was thinking about you, Musashi." "...Now who's flirting?" "Hehe. Good question."
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of takao dayu & berserker.
From the open paper doors of the brothel's second floor, she watched the swordswoman slurp her piping-hot soba noodles with gusto atop the first-story roof. Again and again, she slurped and murmured her delight.
"Soba are meant to be molded into round shapes, but you prefer to have them cut thin, don't you?" continued the courtesan with a long sigh.
"...To be honest, I was planning on having udon. But I already had udon yesterday, so I changed to soba at the last minute." The swordswoman took another sip of broth, beaming. "Mm-mmm! So good!"
Her name was Miyamoto Musashi, the Berserker with whom Takao Dayu had formed a fellowship.
"Bet I could pass for an Edo girl now," quipped Musashi.
"Eh, I would've pegged you for a Shinshu native. Thin noodles are more popular up there."
"Is that so?" Berserker cocked her head pensively. It was hard to say if she'd taken the joke as intended, or if she'd simply accepted it at face value.
Puffing smoke from her bamboo pipe, Takao Dayu looked into Berserker's clear eyes.
It was said that Heroic Spirits who materialized as Servants had no need for food or drink, at least according to someone Takao Dayu had spoken to shortly after encountering Berserker. That person had seemed to envy Servants' freedom from the hardships of the living, but Takao could not bring herself to agree. Food was one of life's great pleasures, after all. Just imagine:
Pickled vegetables and freshly steamed rice, with miso soup on the side. What a heavenly accompaniment! With some fish—cooked or raw—to go with it, the meal would be even more delightful. And one mustn't forget to pair it all with the right liquor, of course.
On nights such as these, Takao liked to enjoy a tipple of clear, refined sake between pulls on her pipe, as she watched the smoke drift lazily on the evening breeze. Denied these delights entirely, these so-called Heroic Spirits from beyond the grave seemed pitiable indeed.
Mark my words, dearie. If the day comes that you take no pleasure from the foods you eat, then you've lost what makes you human.
The courtesans that had come before her had drummed that notion into Takao's head.
Perhaps that was why her companion felt so human even though she was a Heroic Spirit. At any rate, Berserker certainly held cuisine in high esteem. Befitting her claims of having traveled to a myriad of times and places, however, her tastes were peculiar.
On a whim, she would suddenly ask permission to go as far as Ryogoku to buy meat. Or she might ask for rice balls, requesting that they be wrapped in seaweed, of all things. Once, she even wanted to drink cow's milk chilled with well water.
But all in all, meals meant a great deal to Berserker.
"Even that melancholy expression can't mar your beauty, Dayu." Berserker teased, empty bowl in hand. She was probably about to head back to the stall or shop she had ordered from to return the bowl.
Takao Dayu made a languid gesture with her pipe. "Don't flirt unless you're willing to back it up. What a naughty Servant you are."
"I'm not a Berserker for nothing."
"Is that supposed to be a joke?" Even with Berserker's humor lost on her, Takao smiled back. "Did I seem melancholy? Actually, I was thinking about you, Musashi."
"...Now who's flirting?"
"Hehe. Good question."